


Third stream

by Twinings_Peppermint



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: F/F, First Meetings, Gay, Homebaked AU, PTSD, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Tags will be added, Trust Issues, cute (I hope), post cannon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-12 23:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18020159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twinings_Peppermint/pseuds/Twinings_Peppermint
Summary: Vanya meets an admirer in a record shop. She's loud, unaware, and isn't the kind of person Vanya would normally fin herself hanging out with. But she like music.





	1. Storm

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoy! The first chapter's short, I know.  
> So, I was rereading this again, and other than a couple if grammatical errors, I noticed a few things in Kals description that could be taken as badly. Her eyes are constantly referred as being deep and beautiful ect, as well as other part of it. In no way is Kal similar or a representation of me. I made her around Vanyas needs, and discussed her with my discord at length. Also, I've never written a character quite like Kal before so I am trying to get better. Feedback is appreciated!

Vanya walked into the dusty record store in the early hours of the morning, far to overdressed, even for the bitter weather. She was immediately overcome by a kind of bookstore smell. The place was wall to wall with records on neon-painted brackets, with the wallpaper peeling off in the corners. There were three people in the shop (not including herself), which was approximately 300% more than she was used too.  
She needed to go to the classical section. There was a concert next weekend, and Vanya desperately needed some more music to take the edge off. Vinyl reminded her of home, sure, but more than that it felt so ungrounding. Free.  
The three extra people who were in there were an old man, the cashier, and a young woman. She had a warm chestnut complexion with two light blue eyes, practically the same shade of the sky and breathtakingly deep. Her hair was put up into pompom-like ponytails, and had straightened pink strands falling into her face. Her whole outfit seemed to scream ‘Polaroid!’ She was wearing a pair of battered, scribbled on converse, with autumn coloured stockings that came up to just below her knee. Her boot cut jean shorts that were low on her thigh were held up by a thick brown belt which came up to just below the actual ends of her high-waisted trousers. Her oversized turtle-necked jumper, that was half-tucked in, was striped brown, red and deep yellow. And of course, a literal Polaroid camera hung at her hip. It was a creamy brown, and suited nicely with her autumn feel.

She was standing in the Scat section, blocking off Vanya’s usual route to the Classical section, two brackets down from it. There was no other way to get it. She’d have to go past. The aisle was too small to comfortably have to people walk down it, which meant she would have to say excuse me, which would mean getting her attention, which would me-

(Deep breaths, Vanya. Deep Breaths.)  
Putting her hands in her puffer coat pockets, she ducked her head down. Minimal eye contact was best. She got closer, her eyes darting between her glossy pink lips and sky blue eyes and the floorboard. The woman was still glued on the record cover, and seemed to be thoroughly contemplating something. She was biting her lip, practically drawing blood.

“Umm..” Vanya mumbled, glancing up at her. The woman stayed glued on to the record. 

“Uh.. sorry, can I...? Vanya spoke a bit clearer, looking up this time.

The woman spun around, looking for the source of the voice, before looking ever so slightly down at Vanya, before fully processing what she had said. At a comically slow speed, the woman’s concentrated face turned into one of realisation. “Ah! O my god! I’m so sorry I just didn’t see you there, you’re so small, and I was just thinking and-” she babbled out, flustered and clearly surprised at the ‘sudden’ appearance of Vanya. The woman practically hopped around the corner, out of Vanya’s way.  
Vanya stepped through, quietly apologising and saying it was her fault, beelining for the Classical section. That was embarrassing.

The woman seemed to be unaware of herself- loud, somewhat direct (she was used to being called small, but not by someone who was only 2 inches- give or take- taller than her), and seemed to just have no awareness of other people. A daydreamer, Vanya discerned.

The woman seemed to have moved onto the Jazz section, which was on the same bracket as the Classical section. Had she stepped to her right a couple of times, she would be standing right next to Vanya. Vanya kept her eyes on the records, looking for one that she maybe hadn’t heard before.

The woman, however, seemed to be biting her lip again. Thinking. But she seemed to have her eyes on something else this time. Her eyes were darting between a random record she had picked up and Vanya; she seemed hesitant about something.

“Uh, Um!” The woman got up, looking Vanya in the eye as she spun her head around. “I, uh…” she spluttered out again, her voice coming out in small bursts.

“You’re a violin person, aren’t you?” She stared at Vanya, a kind of hopeful nervousness in her eyes. Vanya was stunned momentarily.

“Um, yeah. I play Violin.” She confirmed, visibly tightening up, eyes not willing to meet the others’. “Violinist, I think it’s called.” She said quieter than before, he eyes settling on the beautifully bushy- and yet refined- brows of the other. It was a weird place to look.

The woman’s face seemed to instantaneously light up at the declaration, her impossibly bright eyes brightening further, dimples forming as her grin grew, reaching her decorated ears. She had a singular shock blue and bright red diamond earring. The other was merely studded, small and black. She looked like she could practically take off, her feet giving the impression there that was either fire underneath her or she REALLY needed to piss.

“You played Jazz! At the orphanage! I saw you there! You were so good! I was gonna try and talk to you, but I missed you and you just seemed to completely disappear, where did you go? I was gonna try and get your autograph or something, y’know, cause it’ll sell well when you become famous. Just kidding, obviously.” She giggled nervously. “I’d keep it.” Her face and tone dropped into total, deadpan seriousness.

“Oh, uh..” Vanya wasn’t really sure what to say. There was a reason she didn’t stick around. It had gone horribly, and she was sure everyone else thought so too. Whoever this was clearly had ulterior motives.  
“I don’t usually play Jazz.” She decided on, giving a flash of a meek smile. That seemed to only provoke the other more.  
“Really? I mean, you’re not as good as, like, the professionals and all that, but it felt so different, I mean so different to anything I’ve ever really heard before. It felt more like Jazz, y’know? Not all this stick to the script, prewritten stuff, Y’know?” she gestured to the bracket of jazz she had been standing in front of.

“I mean, well, those are kind of the originals…” Vanya said, looking at some of the records on the bracket.

The other whizzed around in a flurry, giving it a once down, before her cheeks went an impossibly more pink shade. “Well, no not this stuff per say I just…” her voice lowered, face and posture that of a wounded puppy. Dejected, adorable and impossible to ignore.

“I get what you mean.” Vanya offered. She did. She may not listen to that much Jazz, ever, but she got how and why that sort of things might happen.

“Really?” The other women came out with, snapping her head up in a way that made even Vanya feel dizzy. The woman’s eyes scoured her own, that same look of hope and nervousness, but this time with more hesitation. Doubt, Vanya figured. Understandable. Maybe it’d be nice to actually talk to someone about music, for once.

“It’s similar to classical music. It’s what I usually do. It feels like a lot of the people who play don’t feel the piece. Does that sound stupid?” Vanya immediately added that bit onto the end. She had never really properly spoken to whoever this was and didn’t intend to make herself look weird. 

“Really? I’m not a big fan of classical; it just always feels so stiff to me.” She commented. “I’m sure it would sound good if you played it though!” she added, sounding not as if she was correcting herself, but like she had an idea. A light bulb might as well have appeared above her head. She almost looked like a cartoon to Vanya.

“Maybe you could come see me play one day?” Vanya suggested. Where had that come from?

“I’d love too!” the other excitedly exclaimed, before running to the door. “I’ll see you next time you perform!” she called at her before exiting the store.


	2. Woman in Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does the stranger make good on her promise?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!

Vanya didn’t see or think much of the stranger until the next weekend - and even then briefly, and upon the promise that she’d made. Would she actually be there? Maybe it would be nice to have a fan or whatever the stranger was.Vanya doubted she’d actually turn up, though. She wasn’t headlining, and had only just made second seat. Better than the third, she mused as she took her place.

The concert hall was packed. Stuffy people in even stuffier suits, looking like penguins with their collars and jackets. Admittedly, this time round, Vanya had managed to find a much more high-end orchestra to play for. It was nicer - or, more accurately, she got paid more. But there was so much more stress that came with it. These people were far more judgemental than anyone she had ever played for, and that was saying something. They wasn’t any preferential treatment though, and Vanya felt like she was actually progressing, no bias or weird powers saying otherwise. It was good.

The first piece was Johann Pachelbel’s Canon in D major, with some changes to the way it would usually be presented. For one, there were multiple violins. They had decided on a kind of round presentation. She, maybe, had been a bit inspired by what the stanger had said. She thought it was worth a try to combat. And other people did too - they were all kind of surprised when Vanya had spoken up, but pleasantly, Vanya wished she could think. 

It went well, the piece itself, and exceptionally so. No mistakes, and everyone playing seemed to genuinely enjoy playing it.

But it didn’t go down too well; by the end, the air seemed thick with tension, and the already furrowed brows seemed to sink further into the wrinkled foreheads of the uptight audience. 

A sinking feeling in her gut, deep and dark, made her feel sick to the core. The stone cold gazes were piercing needles. A cold sweat broke out over her body, her face turning a deep tomato red. Her mind was buzzing, thoughts of consequences and the thoughts the other people must be having about her and this would reflect on everybody else as well-

She ripped her head away from the crowd, trying to focus her eyes anywhere that wouldn’t seem weird or too obvious that she was avoiding the audience’s eye contact. 

Murmuring suddenly arose in the audience, the heat flushing Vanya’s face intensifying further, the tears threatening to prick her eyes suddenly materialize, almost - not quite - about to trickle down her face, before her eyes caught a blinding glimmer of red. Her eyes spun around to search for the source, before settling on the defined figure of the stranger, dressed in a beautiful sequined red dress that caught the house lights beautifully. She was wearing a pair of extraordinarily high-heeled cherry red pumps, with literal cherries on the white rims. Her legs were covered in fishnet stockings, the straps just covered by her skin-tight dress. Resting on the bend of her elbows, almost falling off, was another cherry item, the patterns matching her studs. Her hair was no longer in two pom poms, but rather one large one, lead to by intricate box braids. 

Adorning her face was a smile that looked almost painfully larger than life, painted a saucy red, glossy under the light. Her dimples were very clearly showing on her round face, her naturally childlike stature completely contrasting her otherwise sophisticated appearance.

She was standing at the front, the best seats in the house, her hands out together like she was praying, with the squeal stuck in her throat practically radiating off of her. 

Vanya’s crumpled face widened in surprise, tears now slowly making their way down her face. She didn’t catch what anyone was saying, but as the stranger slowly began to realise the scene she’d made with the same comicality as the shop, slow and oblivious, and she began to slowly clap her hands, people seemed swayed by her enthusiasm. Like some sort of movie, small clusters of people began to rise to clap, more and more people joining in.

And, soon, almost the entire theatre erupted into spontaneous applause, and you could practically feel the indented wrinkles recede and the cramped brows unfurl. 

The red on Vanya’s face began to lighten, the tight knots in her stomach loosening, as the surprised visages surrounding her began trailing their eyes on her in gratefulness and approval. 

The audience settled again, including the woman in red, as she stared at Vanya. A kind of awe, bliss and maybe even pride coloured her expression. 

The rest of the slightly more traditional pieces on the program went on without a hitch, some of the enthusiasm of the crowd carrying on. An interval was held, as this was a rather long set, meaning most people would normally buy a ticket for the first part or the second. Anyone willing to sit through the entire thing were scarce and held at gunpoint. 

One thing she noticed immediately though, as she took the stage to the audience’s applause was that the stranger was still sat exactly were she was last time. She had bought tickets for both parts, the realisation hitting Vanya like a bolt to the head. 

The second part went smoother than the first, probably on account for the lack of any ‘spicier pieces’ as Nimoy (the conductor) had labelled them. He was eccentric, especially for his standing, with dyed bottle blonde hair and chapped lips, with a mole positioning itself just above them. He would come to work in brightly coloured ‘monkey suits’ and even dressed up for whatever time of year it was. In late october, it was a skeleton suit with glow-in-the-dark face paint that he covered his baton in, for Christmas it was a Santa suit, and some of the members came as elves. Vanya put an elf hat on, to go with the tacky ‘Nice list’ sweater Klaus had knitted her. He and Diego both had naughty ones, but Diego only wore his after a LOT of persuasion from Klaus. That's what Diego said anyway. He had pretty much thrown in straight on when Klaus gave it to him, only to then double take because Vanya was there.

Nimoy even once came as a stuffed turkey for Thanksgivings, Vanya affectionately remembered. 

It seemed odd though- the stranger’s current attitude. She seemed almost bored, forcing herself to sit through it. She kept incessantly fiddling, her mouth in a childish pout, twiddling her thumbs as she kept her now slightly sunken eyes constantly on Vanya. 

She finished the final piece on the program, the audience applauding as they bowed and exited. A small, nagging part of her felt like she had let the stranger down in some way. Like she was expecting more from Vanya, or that it wasn't up to scratch. She'd probably never see her again, was the last thing that came through Vanya’s mind as she finished packing up and walked out through the back entrance of the theatre.

She was greeted by the stranger in red, shivering as she hugged a large coat, the same style to that of Luther's, only white with red polka dots. It was wrapped around her shoulders, her arms not in the sleeves.

She looked Vanya dead in the eye, teeth chattering, her fruity fresh breath being visibly carried away on the wintry winds.

“You came.’’ Vanya stated, the surprise evident.  
The stranger smiled in response. “Yuhuh.”  
She continued to shiver, her eyebrows curving up. She searched Vanya’s eyes, looking for something.

Vanya didn't know what.

“You wanna…?” The stranger prompted, the question open ended, although clearly insinuated that she wanted to go somewhere. Warmer, probably, Vanya comprehended.

The stranger gestured her head in the general direction of downtown. There was a coffee shop, five minutes away.  
“I mean, only if you've got time,” the stranger added on as a second thought, her mind clearly just on getting out of the miserable weather.

“Yeah. I guess I do,” Vanya replied, still not moving from her spot.

They both stood around for a few minutes, just looking at each other and then nothing in particular, normally the floor or that poster on the wall.

“You wanna...?” Vanya prompted this time.  
“Yeah,” the stranger hastily caught on, no venom or sarcasm in it.

They briskly walked there, quickly piling into the half full coffee shop. They found a small table in the corner, a two, and Vanya sat down as the stranger hung her coat on her chair. She seemed overdressed for a place like this, but it was actually fairly common for people to stop down here after a performance. Even so, her attire wasn't exactly… the standard.

“What do you want?” the stranger asked, her usual honeyed tone (when she wasn't overly excited) slipping back.  
“Oh! Um… I don't really mind. You don't really have to get me anything.” Vanya said, quickly standing up, about to make her way up to the queue before the stranger gently blocked her path.  
“No! Really, I insist. My treat. Get whatever, really.” The more urgent, quick tone slipped back.  
Silence passed between them.  
“Really.” the stranger repeated, softer this time. She still seemed to be searching Vanya’s eyes for something. Vanya still didn't know what it was and it was slowly eating her alive.  
“I'll take a coffee then please.” Vanya muttered, slowly taking her seat again. She drummed on the smooth, round oak table as she waited for the stranger.  
The walls of the place were white, with black framed paintings hanging from them. The front door and wall was all window, and the roof above was open. She could see the interior of it.  
It gave the place a kind of openness and minimalism, with the floor’s planks the same light oak as the tables, which had metal support, swirled at the top.  
The place was far more quiet than Vanya normally saw it, although she never really went in on account of the people. The coffee was relatively cheap, but apparently was extremely good. 

The stranger came back about 10 minutes later, a small metal square with a number engraved on it. She placed it in the centre of the table, taking her seat.

The woman was unreadable, her expressions and tones changing and were unpredictable to Vanya.  
Her face was still pretty much deadpan, but there was a small smile tugging on her decorated lips.  
“So….” her voice carried a hint of excitement and a most definitely expectation.  
Vanya looked into her coffee cup, noticing the intricately done foam pattern on the top. It was a violin. She snapped her head up, mouth open in surprise, meeting the puppy like eyes of the other. She looked like she was ready to burst, figuratively and literally. 

“I… uh.. Thanks.” Vanya said into the coffee cup.  
“I told you I was gonna come! It was incredible, that first piece! I mean, I don’t usually like classical, as I’ve said before, but it felt inspired! I’m so glad I came to see you. I mean, I would’ve been glad anyway, but especially! Am I talking too much? I just want you to know you did a great job.” Her feet were tapping under the table, her now bare feet (when had she taken her shoes off? And why?) going red.  
“I meant for the coffee, but thank you for coming to see me. For both bits.” Vanya murmured.  
“Like I said, it was my pleasure. And I hope you like the coffee! I know one of the baristas here. She’s really sweet, and was more than happy to do a little extra.” she giggled and winked, her smooth voice resonating with the air around her.

“Oh..” Vanya went a little red before taking a sip from the cup. She looked back up at the stranger, who was taking a sip of what looked like green tea. She looked back at her, before failing to stifle a laugh. Vanya’s face dropped, before quickly realising that she had a small foam moustache. She rubbed it on her shirt sleeve. She was wearing a suit, her top button undone and her jacket on the back of chair. It had one of those penguin tails. She was fond of it - she liked how she looked, especially the collar on her shirt. It was a bit frilled, and had lace on the ends. Her bowtie had been put back into her pocket. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail.

 

“So, uh, if you don’t mind me asking, why were you at the orphanage?” Vanya made an attempt to start a conversation about the stranger. Maybe this time she’d actually get to know this random fan off the streets that was nothing like she had ever met before.  
The stranger practically spat her coffee back out, clearly caught off guard for whatever reason.  
“Oh, I, uh, just kinda happen to… Donate there! Is all.” The panic was reading loud and clear in her voice. Well, she was certainly a bad liar. 

“Really?” Vanya asked, prompting for whatever reason she could have for donating to a random orphanage. She didn’t, obviously, Vanya assumed. 

“Just… old business, I guess,” the stranger choked out. There was a twinge of hurt in her voice which seemed to go right over Vanya’s head.

“Old business? Like what?” Vanya pressed further, keeping her tone disguised, but leaning further towards her, looking her dead in the eye. Like Diego had told her. Of course, she couldn’t do it very well, but she didn’t want… that to happen again. The rest of the family came first, before anything else. This could be an operative of the commission, or someone like… him. She wouldn’t let her personal problems get in the way of the family again. She was better than that now, and she got it. She could talk to Klaus - Klaus was always happy to talk to her - and she knew her problems weren’t so serious that she needed any therapy or anything like that. She had learnt about spilling her family’s secrets. And with all the extra shit since then? She could never. 

The stranger seemed to fidget in her seat for a few minutes, an incredibly uncomfortable look on her face, before getting up and muttering something about needing the toilet, while she threw on her chunky heels. 

A kind of guilt gnawed at her, somewhere in the back of her mind, buried under dug up, freshly replayed memories. She finished her coffee, not wanting to wait for whoever this weird woman was, throwing on her jacket, coat and scarf on, and walking out the door. 

The women came back from the bathroom 15 minutes later, to an empty table and Vanya’s Violin - in its case - leant against the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! Any type of feedback is appreciated. If you did enjoy, please leave kudos and scrubscribe to this fic!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I put a lot of work into Kal, so I really hope you like her. At the same time, ALL feedback is welcome! Whether you enjoyed it or not, please leave a comment! And if you did, Kudos is always appreciated.


End file.
